


the gentleman's guide to christmas and confessions

by goldenthunderstorms



Category: The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue Series - Mackenzi Lee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Party, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, I fell down a wikipedia rabbit hole about the british parliament while writing this fic, I'm so sorry, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, and the christmas music I listened to to get through election week, boris johnson? wack, british people painfully obviously written by an american, but not really, fake dating if you squint, look at me finally making a "the gentleman's guide to" fic, never thought I would see the day, secret santa time!!!, the chief whips? wack, the house of lords? wack, they're british for once, this is the product of too many hallmark movies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28092282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenthunderstorms/pseuds/goldenthunderstorms
Summary: Percy sips his tea again, mulling that over. “Okay, well, why don’t you just ask a friend to come with you? You just have to have a date for the party right?”“I suppose you’re right.” I consider his idea for a moment, then it hits me. “Percy!” I exclaim. “Be my date to the party!”Percy’s eyes widen. “What? No, I didn’t mean me!”“Why not? It’s not like you weren’t coming anyway—”“I wasn’t planning to.”“Percy!”“Monty,” he replies, edge in his voice.“Please?”He frowns at me but I fire back with a pout that I know he can’t resist. Percy looks away, a smile tugging at his lips. I win. “If I do, will I get a portion of the winnings?” he asks, glancing at me again.“Hm. I’ll consider it.”Percy laughs. “Fine.” He rests his chin in his hand, meeting my eyes with a playful grin that makes my heart skip. “Alright, tell me about our date.”In order to win a bet with his sister, Monty drags Percy to his parents' annual Christmas party. He doesn't quite win the bet, but he gets something much better.
Relationships: Felicity Montague & Henry "Monty" Montague, Henry "Monty" Montague/Percy Newton, Simmaa "Sim" Aldajah & Felicity Montague, in feli's words its complicated, simlicity if you squint??
Comments: 11
Kudos: 33
Collections: TGGTVAV Secret Santa exchange 2020





	the gentleman's guide to christmas and confessions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the_jennster](https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_jennster/gifts).



> happy holidays y'all! this is my fic for the 2020 tggtvav secret santa! it's very fluffy and very christmassy so I hope you enjoy!! my target was purpleologist so jenn I especially hope you enjoy!! I present the boys being dorks and yes a little bit of qpr simlicity content

[ _mini fic playlist!_ ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6YGSJaLgJunGtzhpmHWIcB?si=qaanV_TUTkOE2sCrEW6yxw)

“Every decision I make is a mistake,” I groan, forehead pressed against the Starbucks table.

Percy sits down across from me, dumps exactly three packets of sugar into his tea, and takes a sip before responding evenly. “I’m not going to argue with you,” he says, “but can you be a little more specific?”

I look up at him, resting my chin on the table. Percy just looks down at me, amused. He’s flushed from the cold, brown cheeks tinted red. He’s bundled up, a beanie barely containing his unruly curls. Maybe it’s just me, but Percy looks especially adorable today. I remind myself to stay focused. “I’m fucked,” I say. “I’m going to lose a bet to my baby sister.”

Percy snorts. “What is it this time?”

I force myself to sit up and take a fortifying sip of iced coffee before launching into my explanation. “So my parents have their big annual Christmas party next week and because it’s Felicity’s first year to attend, they made a fuss about her having a date. I said I didn’t think it was possible and Felicity and I ended up making a bet. Whoever shows up to the party dateless loses.”

Percy frowns. “What if you both have a date?”

“That’s where the second part of the bet comes in. Whoever pisses off our parents more with their date wins.” I sigh. “But it appears I’m not as well-versed in getting people to come home with me in that way, so here I am with less than a week until the party without a date.”

“How much did you bet?”

“Fifty quid.”

Percy lets out a low whistle. “You were confident.”

“I was! It’s not like I expect Felicity to find a date at all!”

“What happens if neither of you has a date?”

“I don’t know and I don’t want to find out. I’m not going to lose.”

Percy sips his tea again, mulling that over. “Okay, well, why don’t you just ask a friend to come with you? You just have to have a date for the party right?”

“I suppose you’re right.” I consider his idea for a moment, then it hits me. “Percy!” I exclaim. “Be my date to the party!”

Percy’s eyes widen. “What? _No_ , I didn’t mean me!”

“Why not? It’s not like you weren’t coming anyway—”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“Percy!”

“ _Monty_ ,” he replies, edge in his voice.

“Please?”

He frowns at me but I fire back with a pout that I know he can’t resist. Percy looks away, a smile tugging at his lips. I win. “If I do, will I get a portion of the winnings?” he asks, glancing at me again.

“Hm. I’ll consider it.”

Percy laughs. “Fine.”

“You’re a dear, Perce.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Percy grumbles. “As if your parents need more reasons to hate me.”

“They don’t _hate_ you.”

“Your father does.”

“He hates everyone.”

“Fair enough.” Percy rests his chin in his hand, meeting my eyes with a playful grin that makes my heart skip. “Alright, tell me about our date.”

“This hardly seems necessary,” Percy calls.

“It is _so_ necessary.” I knock on his fitting room door. “Are you almost done in there?”

“I’m coming.” Moments later, the fitting room door swings open. Percy steps out, looking self-conscious. “Monty, really.”

“Don’t you dare argue.” I grab Percy’s shoulders and walk him to the trifold mirror. “ _You_ look _gorgeous_.” We both stand in front of the mirror, taking him in. I’ve forced Percy into a scarlet suit because I want us to complement each other at the party. I must admit that it’s some of my best work.

“You’re sure it’s not… _too_ much?” Percy asks. I can tell he’s on the fence about it. He keeps turning, sizing himself up. Percy always has to be talked into an outfit, but it’s not hard to do.

“Absolutely not. Red looks good on you, darling, and it’ll go with mine.”

“Are you wearing red?”

I shake my head. “No, green.”

Percy raises an eyebrow at me.

“We’ll look festive!” I defend. “We’re going to lean into this whole dates thing as hard as we can.”

“You know I can’t possibly afford this.”

“Why do you think I offered to take you suit shopping?”

Percy snorts. “You’re very dedicated to this.”

“I’m trying to win fifty pounds here.” It’s mostly true. The date is solely for Felicity’s benefit really, so we wouldn’t have to sell anything to her. But if I am given the chance to pretend for at least one night that Percy and I are together, how could I not? Besides, I love him so much in that suit that I would buy it for him without incentive. Red is _definitely_ his colour. I nudge him. “Come on, Perce.”

Percy sighs dramatically. “The things I do for you.”

“Think of it as a Christmas present.”

“I already have your Christmas present.”

I sling an arm around Percy’s shoulders, forcing him to bend down. “Then you’re just so generous, you had to give me two.”

Percy and I arrive at the party fashionably late.

Well, we were late because I couldn’t find my dress shoes. I thought they were in my closet but apparently last time I wore them I got plastered and hid them from myself. I found one in a cabinet and the other under the sofa. We’re not so late that the party is well underway when we arrive, but most of the attendees are already present and seated.

Understand that _party_ is a humble term for the event my parents hold every year. _Banquet_ might be more applicable. For as long as I can remember, my parents have booked the nicest banquet hall they can find and host an annual holiday gathering for all of the other Tories in Parliament. For the first glorious eighteen years of my life, I wasn’t allowed to attend. (There are very few things I envy my little brother for, but that is one of them.) Now that I’m an adult, my attendance is mandatory. On the bright side, my parents spare no expense on the spirits at these things.

Percy and I slip into the banquet hall largely unnoticed. My parents also spared no expense in decorating. The hall is covered in garlands and wreaths in the brightest shades of gold, green, and red imaginable. Each of the long tables has multiple centrepieces forming a line down the middle. Somewhere, speakers play coffeehouse covers of Christmas songs. When I was younger, I often wondered why our home was so sparsely decorated during the holidays. Now, I’m somewhat thankful I was spared the headaches.

I spot my parents standing near a table talking, so we go in the opposite direction. I finally find Felicity sitting with someone at the end of a long table near the front of the room, no doubt my parents’. I pull Percy in that direction.

When Felicity notices us coming she frowns. She stands when we approach and point an accusing finger at Percy. “That doesn’t count!” she says, then huffs. “I knew I should have made Percy off-limits.”

“Whatever do you mean, Feli?” I ask, grinning. “This is completely legitimate.”

“He’s your best friend! You talked him into it!”

“And what if I did? He agreed, so he’s my _date_.” I loop my arm with Percy’s, looking over at him. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

Percy sighs. “Unfortunately,” he says, earning a nudge.

Felicity rolls her eyes. “This _shouldn’t_ count.”

“Well, it does!” I crow. “Now, why don’t you introduce us to your…date?”

The girl Felicity was sitting next to looks up. She’s pretty in a scary sort of way, with scrutinizing dark eyes and dark skin. She’s in a blue suit and headscarf, while Felicity is wearing a formal red evening dress that I’m almost certain Mother bullied her into. “Yes?”

“Hold on, why does this count?” I turn back to Felicity. “You’re not even gay.”

“Monty!” Percy scolds.

Felicity just purses her lips. “Well, Sim _agreed_ too, so if Percy counts, so does she.”

“Fine.” I cross my arms. “We’ll settle this with phase two then?”

Felicity nods.

Percy and I sit with Felicity and Sim at the table. Not long after, my parents join us. Father sits at the end of the table and Mother next to Felicity, leaving me to be the poor soul that has to sit beside my father and facing my mother. My parents don’t look very pleased by either of our guests, but they look more displeased about Felicity’s. That’s to be expected. Percy and I have been rather a package deal our entire lives, but it’s not promising for my fifty pounds.

“It’s good to see you, Percy,” Mother says, giving him a pleasant smile. Although my mother and Percy never exchange more than pleasantries, my mother likes him. I think she was under the impression that he was some kind of good influence on me when we were younger. We all eventually realized that was a losing battle, but Mother still finds Percy more pleasant than her own children. (And can you fault her for it?) She turns to Felicity and her smile wavers. “Felicity, I don’t believe you’ve ever introduced us to your…friend.”

“This is my friend Sim. We met at school.”

To Sim’s credit, she smiles cordially at my mother. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs Montague.” Her voice is rich and accented.

My father doesn’t acknowledge either of our friends. Instead, he waits for people to settle a little before he stands again, tapping a glass to get everyone’s attention. He thanks them all for coming, wishes them a Merry Christmas, as well as other diplomatic things I pay no attention to. I ignore my father’s speech in favour of admiring Percy, which is far more preferable.

He looks downright gorgeous tonight. A couple of days ago, he changed his hair. Now he has tight braids on one side of his head while leaving the rest of his curls free. I haven’t quite recovered since. I was right about the red suit flattering Percy. He looks so good in it that all I really want to do is get him out of it, but those aren’t things you say to your best mate at the dinner table with your family.

Dinner finally begins when my father finishes his speech. Servers bring wine and mini-quiches, the first of many courses. The rest of our table and the other tables in the hall begin pleasant conversation, so of course, Mother attempts to spark one of our own. Sim, as the real guest, is her target. She asks Sim about school and her family, all questions Sim answers with pleasantness just as forced as my mother’s.

“We’re very glad you could join us this year. This party is like our family’s Christmas tradition.” She smiles. “Does your family have any traditions?”

All four of us stare at my mother. For the longest time, I thought my mother was willfully ignorant, but maybe she’s just this oblivious (or dense).

“My family doesn’t celebrate Christmas. I’m Muslim,” Sim finally says, slowly.

Mother blanches, face going blank. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to assume!”

Felicity looks embarrassed on my mother’s behalf. It’s rare that she ever makes such a social error. I think it’s hilarious and can barely contain my snickers. Percy kicks me under the table. I glare at him.

My father sighs, making it clear how tiresome he finds all of us. I smile at him for good measure, but the look he gives me makes me drop my head.

My mother clears her throat. “Henry.”

I look up again. “Mother?”

“How’s university? I trust you’re ending your term well?”

I smile tightly. “Well, you know. The term is ending.” My marks have been less than ideal this year, especially because it’s my last year at Oxford. But honestly, I haven’t been able to bring myself to care. I’m going to inherit my father’s seat in the House eventually, so what does it matter? In the grand scheme of things, it doesn’t make a difference whether I pull myself out of hangovers long enough to write papers or not. It’s not as if it’s going to squander my future. There isn’t much I can do that will. My future is already nice and laid out for me.

“Henry.” My father’s voice is significantly less warm than my mother’s. It’s rather early in the night to already have a warning edge, but I’m sure Felicity and I are already testing his patience. But that is the goal tonight. And I’m willing to risk a cuff or two to win this bet.

“What?” I sip my wine, pointedly ignoring his gaze. “I’m fairly certain the House doesn’t check your marks.”

Both of my parents give me the same incredulous look. My mother sighs through her nose, which is about as close to shouting as she gets.

“Unless you plan on passing the seat to Felicity.”

Felicity barks out a laugh. “Absolutely not.”

My parents’ displeasure is redirected to her. “And why is that?” my father asks contemptuously.

I tune out Felicity before she even starts. I’ve heard her rant about the corruptness of the House of Lords _many_ times before. I may be the problem child, but Felicity is the one that ruins every family dinner with politics. My parents don’t even bother arguing. (Although they have argued almost as many times as Felicity has given this speech. She and Father got into a screaming match about it once.) They just stare, tiredly.

Sim, on the other hand, looks particularly interested. Far too interested. She watches Felicity, looking oddly fond for a conversation about class disparity. That’s when I realize I know that look. It’s the same one I give Percy when he’s rambling about music theory.

 _Sim_ fancies _Felicity_.

I look over at Percy to see if he’s noticed what is definitely a Christmas miracle. Percy just looks tired, just as exasperated with my sister and I as our parents. I nudge his foot with mine. When he meets my eyes, I glance at Sim and back pointedly. Percy just frowns at me, confused. When it’s clear that he doesn’t get it, I just shake my head and wave my hand dismissively. I’ll tell him later.

When we get too many sideways looks from the other end of the table, Father snaps at Felicity to stop talking. She does so with a huff. My family spends the rest of the dinner without much conversation, an instrumental version of _Carol of the Bells_ being the only thing between us and awkward silence.

It’s a relief when, after dessert is finally served, we can go our separate ways. The party isn’t over by any means though. We commence what will be roughly two and a half hours of walking around, boring dancing, and—in my case—getting as intoxicated as socially acceptable. I mingle with Percy on my arm.

I lean over to him. “How many people do you think I can introduce you as my date to before one of my parents tells us to cut it out?” I say in his ear.

Percy snorts, then covers his mouth like he shouldn’t have. “You’re going to get us into trouble.”

I grin. “I certainly aim to, darling.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

“Please, you love it.”

Percy rolls his eyes.

“Are you two done over there?” Felicity approaches us. Sim is at her side, though they aren’t holding onto each other like Percy and I.

“What?” I ask. “I can’t talk to my _date_?”

That earns me another eye roll. Felicity and Percy are eerily similar in their exasperation with me. “You don’t have to lay it on so thick, Monty.”

Sim looks confused. “So you two really aren’t…?” She trails off and gestures between me and Percy.

“Oh, no,” Percy says quickly. He pulls his arm from mine, which feels a little dramatic. “We’re not actually together.”

“Hey now, you’re playing the part tonight.” I pull Percy back to my side.

“You see what I have to put up with?” Percy says to Sim, who grins.

“Don’t I?” She nods toward Felicity. “She’s the same way. I’m sure it runs in the family.”

Felicity and I make the same insulted face at the implication. “I resent that!” Felicity says.

“So do I!” I add.

Percy and Sim just exchange a look.

“Nope, we’re going,” I say, walking away and pulling Percy with me. “You’re not allowed to team up with Felicity’s date against me.”

Percy laughs and lets himself be pulled. When we’re out of earshot he asks, “What was it you were saying about Sim earlier?”

I stop. “What?”

“Earlier, at the table, you kept nodding toward Sim but I didn’t know what you were saying.”

“Oh, she fancies Felicity.”

Percy frowns. “What?”

“I know, I didn’t think it was possible but I guess she—"

“No, no,” Percy cuts me. “Why do you think she fancies Felicity?”

I stare at him. “Isn’t it obvious? Didn’t you see the way she looked at Feli?” Percy looks sceptical, so I continue. “What? I’m very familiar with making eyes at people and that is _exactly_ what Sim was doing.”

“You think Sim is trying to sleep with your sister?”

“No, dumbass! You don’t go to a family function with someone you’re trying to shag. She _actually_ likes Felicity.”

Percy looks back the way we came like he might catch a glance of Felicity and Sim, but they’re out of sight. He turns back to me. “Are you sure?”

I hum thoughtfully. “About…ninety-eight percent sure.”

“I don’t like those odds,” Percy says. “Last time you were _ninety-eight percent sure_ , you got kicked out of a pub for indecent exposure.”

I scoff. “Well, that was different. Besides, nothing is at stake here. I just have a feeling.”

“Because your instincts have always been so reliable,” Percy says flatly.

“Shut up,” I say, making Percy laugh. I sigh. “I’m so mistreated in this relationship.”

Percy grins. “I’ll make it up to you.” He nudges my arm. “I’m going to get a drink. Do you want one?”

I give Percy my most winning smile and squeeze his hand. “Yes, darling, I think that would make me feel much better.”

Percy rolls his eyes fondly and goes to get our drinks.

"Well, it seems your father has become very… _relaxed_ ," says a pompous voice behind me. I turn and it's the bloody _Duke of Bourbon_. The Duke is one of my father's colleagues, another traditionalist like him. They're rather close friends so, obviously, Bourbon doesn't like me much. None of my father's colleagues do. Frankly, I think I'm more interesting than any of their children. It takes a great feat to get kicked out of Eton these days. But because part of that expulsion included me getting plastered and snogging other boys, I don’t often get brought up during state dinners.

I give the Duke my best approximation of a clearly fake smile. If his scowl is any indication, it works. "What do you mean?" I ask.

"Your date," the Duke says, gesturing to Percy with a face like he can smell something. "Did your father allow that?"

For a long moment, I have no idea what to say. Are we really doing this now? I know that the traditionalists are tightwads, but Bourbon must be incredibly bored to be harassing me over Percy. “He doesn’t have to. I’m an adult.”

Bourbon hums thoughtfully. “I imagine your… _friend_ reflects rather poorly on him. What would the party think?”

“Perhaps something similar to what they thought of your affair with that young model,” I retort, “but you didn’t hear me mentioning _that_.”

Bourbon goes red in the face. It’s rather fantastic to see, honestly. “Now see here, boy—”

“I’m rather sure that goes against the _traditional family values_.”

Bourbon rolls his eyes. “As if you would know anything about family values, Montague.”

“Now, now, Parliament made marriage—”

“That’s not what I meant,” Bourbon interrupts. He raises his eyebrows meaningfully.

I falter. “Then what—”

“You and I both know how your father is,” Bourbon says simply.

I stare at him, feeling like I’ve been knocked upside the head. He can’t mean what I think he means. Surely not. Surely he wouldn’t be talking about what I think he is.

Then Bourbon laughs in the closest imitation of a cartoon villain that I’ve ever heard. “We all saw the pictures after Eton.”

Suddenly my lungs are cinched tight. I can hardly breathe, let alone retort. I’ve been humiliated a fair amount of times in my life. I’m not sure I could even call this _humiliation_ , but there’s something so uniquely mortifying about having your childhood beatings used against you in a catfight. Then again, Bourbon has always been one to play dirty.

Bourbon’s face makes it obvious that he knows he won. He has. I don’t have any kind of witty remark to follow that up. So I settle for the second-best option: dramatically storming off. I pass Percy on my way out, grab a wine glass from his hand, and drain it in a few steps before dropping it on a table. Percy watches me go but he’s too stunned to follow me.

I slip out of the banquet hall and into the corridor. I wander, trying to find a suitable place to hide for a while, or the rest of the party. Eventually, I find a courtyard illuminated by lights strung above it. It’s cold outside, the first flakes of snow drifting through the air, though not cold enough for them to stick. I sit on a low bench. I wish I had grabbed another wine glass on my way out. I have a slight buzz but, as most of this night has been either unpleasant or downright shit, I would love to get truly, properly drunk. But that would require that I go back inside, which is not happening.

I lean back and stare up at the Christmas lights strung over the courtyard. I try to ignore the biting cold and process what happened, what I’m doing now. I’m still stunned by what Bourbon said. It’s not so much _what_ he said but that he _thought_ to say it. I’m not fully sure how it’s making me feel, but I am sure as hell not going back to that party anytime soon.

I sit there stewing for a while until the door I came out of opens. Percy pokes his head out and frowns when he sees me. “Aren’t you cold?”

I shrug. “How did you find me out here?” I ask when he joins me.

“You always come outside when you’re sulking.”

I frown at him. “I am _not_ sulking.”

Percy smiles. “Right, and I’m straight.” He nudges my foot with his. “Scoot over.” I do so and Percy sits next to me. He starts to shiver almost immediately and I roll my eyes.

“Why’d you follow me out here, you git?”

“Well I wasn’t just going to let you sit out here by yourself,” Percy says through shivers. I press against his side. Percy leans into me, taking advantage of the heat. “You’re like a human space heater,” he mumbles.

I laugh and wrap an arm around him. Percy presses his face into my chest, which makes my heart do funny things that I hope he can’t hear. It’s nice, though.

“So why _are_ you sulking?” Percy asks.

I huff. “The Duke of Bourbon was being an arse.”

Percy laughs. “More so than usual?”

“ _Much_ more.”

“What did he say?”

For a long moment, I consider telling Percy but decide it’s not worth it. Percy might be the most pleasant member of the Montague family but he is no saint. He has chosen violence for my sake before and I don’t doubt that he would do it again. In year nine, he bashed out the tooth of one of our classmates because of something he said that got me in trouble with my father. “Nothing of importance now.”

Percy looks up at me, flashing his best pleading eyes. I have to look away. “Then can we go back inside? I’m bloody freezing, Monty.”

“ _You_ can.”

“Monty!”

“I’m not going back inside, Perce.”

Percy pokes me in the side, making me squirm. “Why are you being so stubborn?”

“Why won’t you just let me _sulk_?” I slump over and end up laying my head on Percy’s lap.

Percy huffs out a laugh, his hand falling to trace mindless shapes on my arm. “Because when one of us gets frostbite and loses a toe, you’re going to regret this.”

“We could just leave,” I suggest.

“What? Leave the party?”

“They won’t miss us.” I reach up and straighten Percy’s tie. “We’ve shown our faces.”

“What about your bet with Felicity?” Percy asks.

It had slipped my mind. Though I entered the party determined to win, I care less now. It doesn’t feel worth it. I just shrug.

Percy studies me. Something in my face must convince him, or maybe he just really wants to get somewhere warm, because he nods. “Alright, let’s go.”

We rush back inside and get our coats. It’s a little nostalgic, sneaking through hallways and ditching parties like we’re teenagers again. We get our things and hurry out to my car, turning up the heater as soon as we’re in.

Percy looks over at me. “Where exactly are we going now?”

I pause. I hadn’t exactly thought this far ahead. “We could go to yours,” I suggest. Percy nods so I drive us to his building. When we get there, Percy sits up like he just remembered something.

“Oh, I can give you your present now.”

“My present?” I echo. “But Perce, I don’t have yours—”

“That’s fine,” he cuts me off, suddenly practically bouncing with energy. “It’ll be easier this way, though.” I stare at him questioningly but Percy just grins and waves for me to come on.

We run upstairs to his flat. He unlocks the door and lets us in, quickly shutting it behind us against the cold. Percy’s flat is warm and cosy. It always is, but it feels particularly so tonight. His flat is decorated for Christmas, not excessively, but more than I would have (which is none). Lights are strung up from the ceiling and a small silver tree in the corner adorned with little colourful ornaments.

“Why did you decorate?” I ask. “Aren’t you doing Christmas at your parents’?”

Percy shrugs. “I felt like being festive.” I snort, making Percy roll his eyes. “Shut up and sit.”

I do as he says and flop impatiently onto his sofa. Percy disappears into his bedroom. I stretch out, making myself comfortable. I’m in Percy’s flat so often that I should be paying rent, so I never hesitate to make myself at home.

A few minutes later, Percy emerges from his bedroom, suit jacket and tie removed and shirt very attractively unbuttoned. He’s holding his violin case—an ancient thing covered in stickers that has seen _far_ better days—and some papers.

“What’s all this?” I ask.

Percy sets his case on the coffee table and opens it. “Your Christmas present,” he says. Though he seemed eager to show me earlier, he seems self-conscious now.

“Your violin? You know I can’t play, right?”

Percy laughs a little, his smile relaxing. “No, you git, just…listen, okay?” I nod to show that I’m listening. He picks up his violin and he starts to play. Typically, I like watching Percy play more than I like listening to him. He gets this (admittedly very sexy) focused look about him, eyes closed and brow just slightly furrowed, obviously absorbed in what he’s playing. But because he said this was my Christmas present, I try to pay attention to the music itself. It’s an unfamiliar song, not that I know a lot of classical music. It starts light and almost playful, but slowly builds into something much sadder, tugging at my chest in a way the pieces that Percy plays never do. But then it changes again into something full and complex, making me feel things that I can’t name. The song crescendos and then ends with a few small, gentle notes.

For a few seconds after Percy finishes, I just stare at him.

“Well, what did you think?” he asks.

“That was…wow, Perce,” I manage.

A smile flickers across his face. “I wrote it.”

“ _You_ wrote that?”

“I wrote it for you.”

“For _me_ ?” I sound like a damn parrot, repeating everything he says, but I don’t know what else to say. “You composed that for _me_?”

Percy nods, still looking unsure. “Uh, yeah.” He picks up the papers that he carried in, which I now see are sheets of music. “I know you can’t read music but…”

I take the papers, looking them over. None of the notes make sense to me of course, but I can tell how much work Percy put into this song. There are measures erased and rewritten over and over again, messy notes scribbled in the margins. The song is simply titled _For Monty_.

Percy perches himself beside me on the sofa looking antsy. I’m still not sure what to say. He _wrote this_ for me. I am surprised that Percy _can_ compose music. He never shared that with me. But I’m mostly surprised that he did this for me in the first place. It’s the kind of thoughtfulness that I would only ever expect from Percy, yet it still catches my off guard when directed at me.

“You…you do like it, right?” Percy finally asks.

I laugh, which makes his face fall, so I grab his hand. “Of course I _like_ it, Perce. I love it. I’m not sure how I’m going to top it come Christmas but…” I trail off, making Percy laugh too.

“I was worried about it,” he admits quietly. “I know it’s not a normal gift but I thought it would be special. And, honestly, money’s been a bit tight this year—”

He’s rambling. Percy’s a terrible rambler when he’s anxious. I don’t think he realizes the tightening of his grip on my hand as he talks. I don’t know why he’s so nervous about this, as if this isn’t the sweetest damn thing anyone has ever done for me. As if it isn’t the most gorgeous song that I’ve ever heard. If I weren’t in love with him already, I certainly would be now.

“Perce.” I cut him off, putting a hand on the back of his neck. “I love it, okay?”

Percy nods, shutting his mouth. Then we’re just staring at each other. Percy still looks flustered. I rub the back of his neck and he relaxes with a sheepish laugh. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, darling. I think this is my favourite gift you’ve ever given me.”

Percy smiles. “Even better than Janelle Monáe tickets?”

I make a show of considering it. “Maybe they’re tied.”

Percy laughs for real that time, head falling forward to my shoulder. When he rights himself again, his face is much closer to mine than it was before.

I don’t know what it is that gives me the courage. Maybe it’s the soft look that he’s giving me. Maybe it’s the fact that he just gave me this heartfelt gift. Maybe it’s the way he looks right now, perfect and a little dishevelled, the Christmas lights casting soft shadows on his face. Maybe it’s just that I’m so in love with him, that he’s so wonderful that I’ve been able to forget everything else that made this night awful because of him. Whatever it is, something gives me enough courage to move my hand from his neck to his cheek, tilting his face toward mine. Percy looks at me, questioning, but leans into my touch anyway.

“Perce, can I—” I start. _Christ_ , I’ve kissed more people than I can count and somehow asking Percy is the hardest. “Can I kiss you?”

Percy’s eyes widen. For a split second, I fear that I’ve read the whole situation wrong and Percy is about to kick me out of his flat. But then he nods rather enthusiastically and pulls me in by my tie for what is maybe the best kiss I’ve ever had in my entire life.

When we part, Percy looks dazed, a soft smile on his face. “If I knew all I had to do to get you to kiss me was write you a song, I would’ve done it years ago.”

“ _Years_?” I ask.

He turns sheepish again. “Is this a good time to tell you that I’ve kind of been in love with you since we were in year eight?”

“ _Year eight?_ ” I echo incredulously. “When we were _thirteen_?” Percy laughs and nods. “Well, you make my five years seem tame.”

 _That_ surprises _him_. “Five years? You’ve been…” He trails off like he’s afraid to actually say it. “With me for five years?”

“You really must be thick if you never noticed,” I tease, nudging his nose with mine.

Percy makes an indignant sound. “Really? You didn’t notice for _eight years_.” I start to protest but Percy smiles and kisses me again, effectively shutting me up. “Maybe we’re both thick,” he says against my mouth. I can hardly stay mad at him when his lips are so close to mine so I just nod and close the gap between us again.

It’s truly better than I ever could have imagined. I have imagined it. A lot. I’ve only been fantasizing about this kind of moment since I was sixteen. I never really believed it would happen.

Merry bloody Christmas to me.

We carry on that way for a while, trading slow, smiling kisses. 

Eventually, Percy pulls back, leaning his forehead against mine. “Stay the night?”

“Percy Newton!” I’m not against what he’s suggesting in any way, but I _am_ surprised that he’s the one suggesting it.

“Not like _that_ ,” he says, quickly shutting down _my_ ideas. He’s still holding my hand and squeezes. “Just…stay here. With me.” He meets my eyes carefully, but hopefully. He still has that dazed smile on his face. Something pulls at my heart and I let myself feel it. It’s certainly not the first time I’ve been asked to stay the night, but no one has ever asked me like _that_ . Like he wants _me_ here, and not just someone to warm his bed for the night.

“I’m not going anywhere, darling.”

Soon, we retreat to Percy’s room for bed. Percy gives me some of his clothes to sleep in. It’s definitely not the first time I’ve worn Percy’s clothes, but it feels more intimate now.

We climb into bed together. It’s not the first time we’ve done that either. Percy and I have always toed the line between friendship and something more, I suppose. But now we’ve crossed it. The only difference now is that, once we're in bed, I pull him close to me. Percy smiles and kisses my forehead (which, in all honesty, it takes me a few seconds to recover from).

“Oh,” he says, tilting my chin. “By the way, uh, I love you,” he stammers. “I don’t think I actually said it earlier so…”

 _Christ, what did I do to deserve him?_ I know the answer to that is nothing. There’s nothing I could have done to deserve him. I don’t think anyone is truly worthy of Percy. I’m certainly not. But that doesn’t stop me from kissing him and telling him that I love him too.

The next morning, Percy and I make a stop at my house. I’m just popping in to change clothes before spending the rest of the day with Percy. What else are you supposed to do when your lifelong best friend, who also happens to be the boy you’ve been in love with for five years, admits that he’s also in love with you? So I do my best to sneak in without alerting my parents (which really isn’t that hard) and change clothes. But before I can return to Percy’s car, I have a sister to harass.

I knock twice on Felicity’s door but don’t wait for an answer before swinging it open. Felicity is curled up in bed, her phone held so close to her face that I can only assume she’s reading. She sits up when I come in.

“ _You_ disappeared last night.”

“I did,” I reply with a grin.

Felicity frowns. “Oh no, whose bed did you fall into this time?”

“Percy’s, believe it or not.”

Felicity’s eyes widen. “Are you serious?”

“Well, somewhat,” I admit. “We didn’t _sleep_ together, but I stayed at his flat last night.”

“Oh, that’s not new. Why are you so pleased?”

“Because that’s not, but the kissing was.”

Somehow, her eyes get wider. “So you and Percy _are_ together?”

“Well, we haven’t actually _discussed_ it yet but it turns out we’ve both been pining for quite some time.”

“That’s not news.”

I roll my eyes at her. “Fine, onto the important things. Who wins the bet?”

That makes her smile, filling me with dread. “Well, for starters, I think I should win by default because you _left_ —”

“Now wait a minute—”

“—but I think we should win either way because Sim almost got into a fight with the Prime Minister’s wife.”

A surprised laugh escapes me. “Really? Why?”

“She said something Islamophobic and Sim didn’t need much other reason. The party ended pretty soon after that so I know Father is _pissed_.”

I try not to seem too pleased about this. I did lose fifty pounds. But everything else about this makes it too good. “Did she get a swing in?” I ask hopefully.

Felicity suppresses a grin too. “No, I had to hold her back.”

“Shame,” I say. “Though speaking of Sim…” I trail off and raise my eyebrows meaningfully.

Felicity frowns. “What?” she asks flatly.

“What’s going on with you two?”

“What do you mean? Nothing is going on with me and Sim.”

“No? Because, as you know, I consider myself a veritable expert in pining after your best friend—”

Felicity snorts. I ignore her.

“—and the way Sim looked at you was very _not_ friendly.”

Felicity looks away and I know I’ve struck gold. She bites the inside of her cheek. “It’s…complicated.”

I laugh. “Really? Do tell. I never thought I would see the day where _you_ have relationship problems.”

“It’s not a _relationship_ ,” Felicity corrects. “Sim and I aren’t… _together_. She has feelings for me and I—” Felicity stops suddenly.

“You what?” I prompt. 

“I don’t know,” Felicity finally says, sheepishly.

“You _don’t know_?”

“I don’t know!”

“How can you _not know_?”

“I told you it’s complicated!”

I shake my head. “You are hopeless, Feli.”

“Hey! At least I wasn’t so dense that I didn’t _notice_ Sim had feelings for me.” She nods to me pointedly.

I don’t have a good argument for that so I just make a face at her, which she returns. “So, what, do I owe you money now?”

Felicity nods much too eagerly. “PayPal is preferred.”

I huff but send her the money. A bet is a bet, though it is still agonizing to be losing to my little sister. She’s so damn smug about it, too.

“You know, Feli,” I start, because I can’t just let her stay smug without getting on her nerves at least a _little bit_. “I’m not even that upset about losing the bet. I got something last night much more valuable.”

It takes a minute to click before Felicity groans. “Get out of my room. Go be gay elsewhere.”

“Well, I certainly plan to.”

Felicity rolls her eyes and picks up a pillow. I barely manage to avoid getting hit with it as I flee the room, laughing.


End file.
